


ask for what you want

by lisafrankcave



Series: Koriel [1]
Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: AFAB Apprentice, Nonbinary Character, Other, Porn with Feelings, Sexual Fantasy, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension, apprentice is a service top, apprentice uses she/her and they/them interchangably, bottom muriel, nonbinary apprentice, pretty vanilla, short and bittersweet, submissive muriel, very short
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-17
Updated: 2020-06-17
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:46:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24763318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lisafrankcave/pseuds/lisafrankcave
Summary: Muriel gets thoroughly topped by the apprentice.  Or, at least, he wants to be.
Relationships: Apprentice/Muriel (The Arcana), Muriel (The Arcana)/Original Character(s)
Series: Koriel [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1790860
Comments: 2
Kudos: 71





	ask for what you want

**Author's Note:**

> My apprentice is Kore, who is nonbinary and uses she/her and they/them pronouns. For the sake of consistency, I stuck with they/them for this piece. Hopefully part of a series. The timeframe is the night Muriel and Kore spend at Mazelinka's house before the second battle with Vulgora.

Muriel felt a noise catch in his throat, his normally controlled and precise movements giving way to squirming as his hips jerked up. On top of him, Kore grinned, stifling a giggle by biting their lip before continuing to ride him, the slow upward motion sending his head back, further loosening the ponytail that had been rather tight before...well, this. A soft, earnest, almost whining moan left his lips--how embarrassing, he thought-- as theirs met his chest, trailing up until they got to his earlobe, tickling that spot with their nose and mouth before slowly gyrating their hips. He panted, arching his back, one hand gripping the blanket underneath him as the other reached for his partner’s. 

Every movement they made as they rode him had him squeezing their hand a little tighter. The hand in the sheets moved to their face; he could barely make himself out as he whimpered, barely audibly, ‘can I kiss you?’ His partner leaned in; their lips tasted of honey and lemon, of green tea and vanilla, of salt and sweat. Perfect.

Kore was close to another orgasm; he could feel it. They whispered a warning in his ear, chased their release, and he watched their thighs shake, felt them pulsing against him, used every ounce of self-control in his entire being to wait as they rode it out. Once it faded to aftershocks, they leaned in. 

“My Muriel...so patient,” they cooed, kissing his jaw.

“C-can I- could I…” he paused, hands resting comfortably where their thighs and ass met, before meeting their eyes, pleading silently. “Can I come now? ...Please?” 

“Come for me,” they whispered, “whenever you’re ready. Come for me.” 

He thanked them reverently, almost too quiet to hear, and adjusted himself, hips rocking up into them at a steady pace as their tired thighs did all they could to help. He worried his fingers might leave permanent indents in the flesh of their thighs. Once again, his back arched; then, he felt his muscles tighten, his toes curl, his breath catching in his throat, he swore he saw stars. Finally, he was spent. He felt his body go limp, then a face in his neck, arms around his shoulders, his cock, unsheathed, hitting cool air....

Muriel’s eyes opened. He was on his back, in a strange bed, the smell of burnt whiskey and healing herbs in the air. Kore had fallen asleep in a position that seemed as though they were climbing him, face nestled in his neck. Ignoring the discomfort between his legs, he pressed a kiss to the top of his bedmate’s scalp, wrapping them in a warm embrace. 

He debated saying something, stirring them awake or bringing it up in the morning during breakfast, but his better judgement said that would be a bad idea, and his better judgement was usually right. Echoes of his partner's words to him in the Palace bath, before the Masquerade, played over and over again. "Tell me what you want," "don't be afraid to ask for things," "don't feel guilty for wanting things," a constant refrain. It nagged at him, but right now, the needs of the world mattered more than the wants of one man and, possibly (hopefully...?) his partner.

He decided he could unpack that dream he’d had later, when he wasn’t a day away from a difficult fight, when he--when the two of them (it still felt weird to think about that)-- could go back to his own home and sort things out in privacy...if he could go back home. That thought could wait, too. He grounded himself from the nerves he felt coming on by breathing in deeply, giving Kore a quick squeeze, not too tight, and closing his eyes with a heaving exhale. Until the whole Devil thing was sorted out, talking about dreams and fantasies could wait until he wasn't afraid of losing his current reality. He drifted to sleep at the thought of a pleasant future, of silkie bantams in his backyard, tapestries on each wall, and every night being date night.


End file.
